Mycroft's Secret Children
by IzzyDelta
Summary: At University Mycroft Holmes fell in love and fathered a child. Nearly thirty years on, the afore mentioned child now hates him and has removed her mother from Mycroft's reach. Will Mycroft be able to reestablish contact with his lost family with John help? DO NOT OWN RIGHTS OF CHARACTERS.
1. PROLOGUE

**Mycroft's Secret Child(ren)**

**Prologue**

A young man walks down a corridor carrying an armload of textbooks and papers away from a lecture theatre. He fails to look where he is going as his mind in reeling with various philosophies, facts and figures emanating from his university course. He bumps into a young woman walking the other way. His papers and books all fall to the floor. They both drop to their knees and scramble around to pick everything up. The pair of them stand, each carrying half the stuff. The young woman glances at the notes in her hand and groans. 'I've missed the lecture haven't I?' The young man nods. She shifts everything into the crook of one arm and extends her hand. 'Joy-Anne Tilbury.'

'Mycroft Holmes.'

'Oh, I know. We're in the same seminar class. I sit next but one to you.' Mycroft smiles in response.

'You prefer the philosophy and economy aspects rather than the political. Going on how bored you get when exploring the political history modules.'

'Whilst you hate philosophy but enjoy the economy and political modules.' Mycroft turns his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

'You're good. Care to take a look at my notes?' Joy-Anne's expression immediately becomes relieved.

'Please, if it isn't too much trouble.' Mycroft leads Joy-Anne down the corridor.

A couple of hours later, Joy-Anne and Mycroft sit at his desk pouring over the notes Mycroft had made during the lecture. Mycroft reaches over past Joy-Anne and accidently on purpose brushes Joy-Anne's arms. She starts but smiles blushing leaning forward to hide it from the young genius. Mycroft sees it but doesn't let on. Minutes later Joy-Anne reaches forward and brushes her hand over Mycroft's. He grabs her hand but she draws away. He cups his palm to her cheek and leans in to kiss her. After initial reluctance Joy-Anne deepens the kiss and the two of them staggers towards the bed without breaking contact. They only break contact to take off the other's clothes. They fall onto the bed completely naked and unaware of the outside world.

_Three months later_

Joy-Anne knocks on the door to Mycroft's room. 'Just a minute.' Mycroft's call floats through the door. He opens the door with ruffled hair and dishevelled clothing.

'Pull an all nighter?' Mycroft yawns and nods. Joy-Anne glances up and down the corridor. 'We need to talk.'

'About what?' Mycroft yawns again but steps back. 'Come in.' Joy-Anne steps over the threshold hesitantly.

'Did you have a good Christmas?' Mycroft scrubs at his eyes.

'It was ok, I suppose. It wasn't a total disaster but it didn't go as well as I had hoped.'

'Why was that?'

'My father had walked out on us on Christmas Eve four years ago. Just walked out and never came back. This year my mother had the bright idea of having her latest boyfriend join us for the holiday.' He pauses. 'But you are stalling Joy. What do you need to say?'

'Do you remember when we first really talked to each other?' Mycroft nods not fully understanding what Joy-Anne is saying. 'Do you remember what we did?' Mycroft starts to get impatient.

'Yes, I do Joy-Anne. Just what are you saying?' Joy-Anne hesitates. Mycroft softens his stance. 'I'm sorry, it's just early and…' He trails off uncharacteristically uncertain.

'Mycroft, I'm pregnant.' Mycroft's jaw drops.


	2. CHAPTER 1

**Chapter One**

A woman crouches by one of the lion statues in Trafalgar Square sheltering from a hail of bullets from a window looking over the iconic landmark. The shards from the bullet landing sites creep closer to the frightened woman. Across on the other side of the square two men are pinned into a doorway to shield themselves from the snipers. The frightened woman crawls around the corner of the statue and instantly the hailstorm of bullets stop. The two men spot the woman cowering next to the lion statue as she moves into view. They gesture in an attempt to catch her eye but she keeps her head tucked into her knees curling herself into a ball.

Suddenly, a second woman appears closer to the first but still on the edge of the square. She calculates the distance between the terrified woman and the two men, then between herself and the woman. 'Why are we here Sherlock?' the voice of one of the men speaks from the doorway and floats across the square.

'Because we need to help her.'

'Who is she?'

'Important and in danger.'

'You aren't going to tell me any more than that are you?'

'Nope.' At the one word statement from the taller of the two men, the second woman makes up her mind. She scans the windows looking down on the square finding the window where the sniper has taken up residence. She takes a deep breath and sprint out of her alley and launches herself next to the petrified woman as the volley of bullets start up again. She takes her into her arms and soothes her for a couple of seconds while shielding her from the shrapnel. The second woman scans the square for another possible route out. She makes eye contact with Sherlock. She flicks her eyes to the alleyway she had burst out of then she flicks her gaze to the woman next to her before reversing her eye movements. Sherlock nods in acknowledgement. They wait for a lull in the stream of bullets. When one comes the two of them grab the person next to them and yank them towards the alley. The two women reach the alley first and they duck into the safe ground between the close buildings. Sherlock and his friend join them moments later panting but having the time of their lives. Once Sherlock had regained his breath he runs his eyes over the woman who had been shot at. 'Victoria, are you okay?' He asks gently. The woman who had curled herself at the first opportunity uncurls herself to look at him.

'Sherlock.' She flings herself at the Consulting Detective and wraps her arms around his neck. Sherlock hugs her back unsure at first but he soon gathers confidence in the action. Unconsciously he rubs small circles on her back soothing her. He detaches himself and looks her straight in the eye.

'How are you?'

'I'll be fine.' She attempts to pull herself together. 'I wouldn't be but for-' she turns to look at her saviour. Nothing except an empty alley.

'Where did she go?' The shorter man asks looking around them.

'I don't know John.' Sherlock replies uncertainly as his phone's text alert noise goes off. He grabs Victoria's hand and pulls her along the length of the alley. 'We need to go.' John follows the two of them.

~~~~~x~~~~~x~~~~~x~~~~~x~~~~~

Mycroft sits at his desk looking through paperwork. A beep from his computer makes him glance at the monitor. He sighs and types in a command. On the screen various angles of Trafalgar Square appear. He watches spellbound as the scene unfolds. He sneers at John and Sherlock trapped in the doorway. He watches Victoria cower next to the lion statue as the bullets fly through the air around her. He is surprised at the arrival of the unknown woman but sighs with relief when all four of them disappear out of shot safely. He hovers his hands over the keyboard ready to type a command into the computer but decides not to as the woman's face is constantly shielded. Instead he reaches for his phone and he types out a text to his younger brother. He sits back in his chair and closes the folder. He picks up all the confidential papers on his desk and places them in a drawer locking it for security.

Nearly an hour later the door to his office opens and his assistant is framed in the space where the door had been. He looks up at her. 'Yes?' He enquires.

'Your brother, Doctor Watson and a young woman are outside sir.'

'One not two women?'

'Only one sir.' She replies.

'Send them in.' the assistant retreats and Sherlock appears in the doorway still holding hands with Victoria. John follows on their heels closing the door behind him.

'Mycroft, you need to get Victoria another identity.' She tugs her hand out of Sherlock's.

'Don't I get a say in this?' She folds her arms scowling at the two of them. 'I don't want another, I've only got used to this one.'

'Why Sherlock?'

'The sniper was working against…' Sherlock shuts his eyes thinking. 'Against Operation Beta Gamma Alpha 15937.'

'Ah.'

'You two, I want to keep this identity.' Victoria's voice takes on a whine. 'Please.'

'Could it be arranged?'

'I could try and find away.' Mycroft switched his attention to Victoria. 'You could never come back to England. Not even to visit.' Victoria nods and swallows.

'I only came back for a flying visit. To see home for the last time.' Mycroft types commands into the keyboard and nods to Victoria.

'There is a private car waiting to take you to a private airfield and then onto America.' Victoria nods and turns to leave. She takes out an envelope and tosses it onto the desk.

'That's for the pair of you. And John.'

'Thank you Victoria, have a safe trip.' Victoria waves at him and exits the office.

'I assume you would like a full explanation Dr Watson.' John nods.

'Victoria Rachael Morris was born under a different identity. Her identity was changed after she testified anonymously at a trail but her evidence was as such it was obvious that only she could have told it. Therefore potentially putting her life in absolute danger had she stayed in the country.'

'Witness protection scheme I get it but…' John trails off. 'But how does she know you two well enough to be instantly at ease?'

'We grew up together. Mycroft was her main child minder.' Sherlock huffs. 'We loved taking the mickey out of him.'

'Yes… constantly.' Mycroft fixes Sherlock with a stare. 'The pair of you never actually wound me up.'

'So you say.'

'Why was she pinned down by Nelson's column?'

'I would hazard that the confederates of aforementioned criminal spotted her as she entered the country. I alert Sherlock who I assume had his homeless network trail her.' Sherlock inclines his head.

'Okay. Who was that woman?' Mycroft raises his eyebrow 'obviously not Victoria but the other woman?'

'Her face was always covered on camera.'

'I would recognise her again. But I don't know who she is.'


	3. CHAPTER 2

**Chapter Two**

'_It's definitely mine?' Joy-Anne nods._

'_I have only ever slept with you.' she tells him_

'_What are you going to do? Drop out?' Joy-Anne laughs nervously but shakes her head._

'_My parents would kill me. No, I'm going to carry on with the course but long distance. I'm keeping our child.' Mycroft nods. 'Mycroft, if you don't want to be apart of the child's life you don't have to be. I won't force you to do anything'_

'_If you need anything let me know. Financially or anything, I won't run but I don't want to put the child's life at risk either. Everyone is tipping me for big things-'_

'_And big things mean dangerous enemies. I know and understand. Thank you Mycroft.'_

'_Is this goodbye?'_

'_No, I won't be leaving truly until the Easter break. Hopefully I won't be showing before then or if I am it's small enough to hide.' Joy-Anne cups Mycroft's face with her hands. 'I love you Mycroft. Always have and always will'_

Mycroft sits up in his bed suddenly wide-awake. He glances at his bedside clock. 3:30am. He groans and scrubs his face. He lowers his torso back down to his pillows but he knows deep down that he won't be going back to sleep tonight but he closes his eyes anyway.

_Mycroft walks down the hospital corridors towards the maternity ward. He stops by the nurses' station and asks for Joy-Anne Tilbury. The nurse sitting behind the desk narrows her eyes at him. 'She asked me to come I'm the baby's father. I wasn't sure I would be able to make it.' The nurse's expression clears and she directs him to a private room. He follows her instructions and stands outside the window watching the woman sleep. She stirs whispering his name. He doesn't hear it but he reads her lips. She opens her eyes and spots him through the glass of the window. Her eyes widen and their gazes lock. She smiles and beckons for Mycroft to enter. He does and perches on the bed next to her. 'I thought the babe would be born by now.'_

'_So did the rest of us. If it doesn't come today they'll induce labour.'_

'_Do you know the gender?'_

'_Yes, but I want it to be a surprise for you.' Joy-Anne reaches up and kisses Mycroft under the chin. 'Remember when I wrote to you for name suggestions?' He nods. 'I picked the best boy's and best girl's name. You named our baby. Be proud.'_

'_I am.' Mycroft whispers. He swipes a tear from Joy-Anne's eye and she does the same for him. He kisses the crown of her head and her contractions begin._

Mycroft opens his eyes again and pulls himself into a sitting position at the edge of his head. He glances at his clock again but sees that only ten minutes had passed. He stands and makes his way through the flat to the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water and downs it in one. He stares at the empty glass before pouring himself another one. He also downs that one. He places the glass on the counter and holds his hands out in front of him palms down. He looks at his shaking hands. He fists them and kneads his forehead in a futile attempt to stop a headache forming. He refills his glass and wanders through to his sitting room. He picks his phone up from the coffee table and switches it off before disconnected the battery and removing the SIM card. He places each part of the phone back onto the table before reaching under it and drawing out an album from a secret compartment. He opens it and smiles at the very first photo. Him, Joy-Anne and their newly born baby girl. 'Anne-Marie Florence Holmes.' he whispers to himself stroking the picture, tracing the lines of Joy-Anne's overjoyed face as she watches her daughter sleep. A tear falls down Mycroft's faces and splashes on to the photo. He carefully blots the drop off and turns the page. He swipes other tears away from his face not wanting to spoil the only copies he owns of pictures detailing his daughter's life. A coupled of hours later sleep creeps up on the exhausted man and his sinks to his chest as the album remains open on his lap. The two pictures looking out at the sleeping man contain the same person. One picture by herself and the other along side her mother.

Mycroft jerks himself awake at the sound of his front door bell. He rubs his eyes and carefully moves the album from his lap and places it still open on the coffee table. He stands and walks stiffly over to the intercom towards the front door of the apartment complex. 'Hello?'

'Mycroft? It's John may I come up?'

'Yeah, why not?' Mycroft mutters as he presses the button to allow John into the building and he sends his personal lift to the ground floor for doctor to ascend and enter Mycroft's penthouse flat. Mycroft himself goes back into his sitting room. He listens to John opening the door and entering the flat. 'In here John.' John's footsteps herald the man himself into the sitting room.

'Mycroft, are you okay?' John looks at him with a worried expression.

'Any news on that woman?'

'No. Mycroft, Anthea was worried when you didn't turn up for work this morning.'

'What time is it?'

'Half eleven.' Mycroft starts and stares at John still standing in the doorway. 'Oh sit down Doctor Watson.' John takes a seat near Mycroft but doesn't take his eye of the elder Holmes.

'What's wrong Mycroft?'

'Why would you think something's wrong?'

'Firstly, you aren't at work; Secondly, you haven't rung into work to say you will be off; Thirdly, no one is able to contact you, both your landline and mobile are disengaged; Fourthly, you are here clearly anxious and distressed; Fifthly, I have never seen the hands of the great Mycroft Holmes shake; Sixthly I see the album on the table showing pictures of the woman who saved Victoria.' Mycroft sharply turns his head to face John.

'What?'

'I recognise her.' John leans forward to take a closer look. 'She's older than the photo but it's definitely her.'

'Definitely her?'

'Yes. Who is she?' Mycroft rises and walks to a window. John rises. 'Mycroft, who is she?'

'My daughter.' Mycroft whispers very softly. John barely hears him but reads the reflection of Mycroft's lips in the window. 'My eldest child.'

'Your daughter?' Mycroft turns.

'Anne-Marie Florence Holmes, my daughter. Turn the page forwards John.' John does as he is told. 'Read the caption.'

'Anne-Marie Florence, Stephen Michael deceased and Amy Sophia deceased.'

'Read on.'

'Gathered to honour their mother's 45th birthday.'

'Turn to the first page.'

'Anne-Marie?'

'As a newborn, yes. That's Joy-Anne Tilbury. We never married in an effort to save them.'

'It didn't work for Stephen and Amy.'

'They were kidnapped and murdered in an effort to stop me from putting forward a couple of laws we needed.' Mycroft wanders over to his drinks cabinet. 'I would have stopped the laws if I had known. Anne-Marie begged audience with me but I refused her. I refused and failed my own daughter. I killed her brother and sister.'

'You weren't to know.' John protests.

'I could have admitted her. She blames me. I blame myself.'

'What about Joy-Anne?'

'I haven't spoken to her for five years. After the kidnapping of the younger two Anne-Marie moved away her from my reach. I can't find her anywhere. The only person to have completely beaten me, my own daughter.' Tears fall from Mycroft's eyes. 'Five years ago, after I refused her audience, she turned to crime to spite me. All Scotland Yard's unsolved thefts, too boring for my brother, have been committed by her.'

'Mycroft-'

'Go John. Go to my brother. Take that photo, the last one of all three. Gain her trust by showing it to her. Do what I can't.' John walks up behind Mycroft and gently places it on Mycroft's shoulder.

'I will Mycroft. I promise.' The text alert on John's phone goes off.

'Go John.' John removes the photograph from its holder in the album. He pauses. He replaces it and takes a photograph of it on his phone.

'But I won't take it. You will miss it. The photo of the photo should be enough.'

'Goodbye John, don't tell Sherlock. Not yet. I am not ready for him to know.' John nods and leaves Mycroft to his remembrances.


	4. CHAPTER 3

**Chapter Three**

John walks up to the front door of Scotland Yard. He nods hello to all the officers he knows and walks on up to Detective Lestrade's office. He enters the floor where Lestrade is based and pushes open the door to open desk area of Lestrade's team. He stops open mouthed at the scene before him. 'You took your time John.' Lestrade mutters.

'Yeah well, dealing with a Holmes can be life changing.'

'And don't I know it.' Lestrade grins.

'No, you really don't Detective Inspector.' John mutters. 'You really don't. Where's Sherlock?'

'You missed all the fun John. Sherlock got so bored that he decided to solve all our unsolved thefts. He led us straight to the thief but we don't know her real name. Sherlock reckons that he can worm it from her.'

'I doubt that.'

'How?'

'Where are they?'

'My office.' John walks over to the office and pushes the door open revealing Anne-Marie and Sherlock sitting opposite each other locked in a battle of wills.

'Not now John.'

'Anne-Marie Florence.' Anne-Marie visibly flinches.

'How-' Sherlock and Lestrade say together.

'You didn't say my surname.'

'A name you hate.'

'John, how do you know her?' Sherlock tries to interject but both Anne-Marie and John ignore him.

'How do you know me?'

'I know your father.'

'No one knows my father, not really.'

'You could say no one really knows anyone.' John counters.

'True.' She concedes. 'But it's doubly so for my father.' John inclines his head.

'He told me about your brother and sister. He hates himself for it.'

'Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?'

'If he could change it he would. He is crying at this very minute, well maybe not now but he was when I left.' Anne-Marie shrugs.

'And?'

'Happy Birthday, Anne-Marie Florence, twenty-eight today. Where's your mother?' Anne-Marie laughs.

'Nice try, a very nice try.'

'He just wants to see her. He misses her and you.' John retrieves his phone from his pocket and accesses the most recent picture. He turns the screen towards the young woman. 'Have a look.' She reaches apprehensively for the phone. She looks closely at the picture.

'Me with-'

'Stephen and Amy celebrating your mother's 45th.' Anne-Marie looks up at John with tears in her eyes.

'How?'

'I told you. I misses you.' John gestures to the pictures of various heists and break-ins. 'Rather pathetic way to catch his attention though.'

'He'll pull strings.'

'I doubt it young lady.' Sherlock interrupts unable to stay silent much longer.

'She's right, he will. He's not going to lose his only surviving child.'

'Who is her father?'

'For a genius you are rather thick Sherlock.'

'Anne-Marie, he thanks you for saving Victoria.'

'Her name isn't victoria you know.'

'We know.'

'Why did you save her?' Anne-Marie rises from her seat and uses her handcuffed hands to shove Sherlock firmly in the chest.

'I couldn't not save my godmother, you moron.' Anne-Marie yells as she pulls her hand out of the handcuffs and flees out of the office. All the officers make to go after her. John stops them with a wave.

'I know where she's headed.'

'She's got your phone John.'

'I know, she'll return it. I trust her.'

'Who is she John?' Lestrade asks.

'A very scared, confused young lady, She wants nothing more than to be with her father but hates him because he was too slow to act to stop the deaths of her siblings.' Lestrade reclaims his seat.

'Who were they?'

'According to the newspapers, Stephen Michael Tilbury and Amy Sophia Tilbury.'

'According to the papers?'

'Their mother's maiden name was given to the press.'

'Joy-Anne Tilbury?' Lestrade asks. John nods. Lestrade's eyes open. 'He's her father. _HE is HER father_?' John laughs and nods again

'Who?'

'What was that picture?'

'The last photo ever taken with all three kids pictured. Three days later Stephen and Amy were kidnapped and Anne-Marie tried and failed to get her father to listen. The died a week later.'

'BUT WHO?' Sherlock thunders. John ignores him and makes his way to the door.

'Come on Sherlock.'


	5. CHAPTER 4

**Chapter Four**

John climbs out of the cab after paying the taxi driver and opens the door. Sherlock, however, remains inside the vehicle. He scowls out at the doctor on the threshold of 221b Baker Street. John glances over his shoulder, shrugs and enters the flat climbing the stairs to their main living area. Sherlock huffs in the back of the cab before his curiousity gets the better of him and he dashes up to the flat. Sherlock attempts to seize John into a chokehold but expertly dodges and grips Sherlock tightly by his neck. 'Please remember what I used to be Sherlock.' Sherlock grunts not able to do or say much else. 'Maybe if you actually engaged in emotions every so often you would be able to work out what myself and Lestrade both know.' John releases Sherlock suddenly and the taller man falls heavily to the carpet with a thud. John steps over him and settles himself into his favourite armchair. 'I don't appreciate being attacked by my best friend, Sherlock.' Sherlock pushes himself to his feet glaring at John. John looks up at him with every trace of the soldier disappeared. 'As you are standing some tea would be lovely thank you.' Sherlock swallows an insult with difficulty but heads into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

'Who is she?'

'Anne-Marie Florence, goddaughter to Victoria.'

'Anne-Marie Florence what?'

'Holmes.' A new voice comes from the doorway between the hall and the living room.

'What do you want Mycroft?'

'To thank John for his help.'

'And to return his phone.' Anne-Marie steps past her father holding out John's phone. She stoops and kisses the doctor on the cheek. 'Thank you.' She whispers. She tucks herself under Mycroft's arm and playfully pushes him onto the sofa.

'John helped you how?' Sherlock walks back into the living room and stares at the sight before him. Everything clicks into place in his mind.

'Meet your niece Sherlock, Anne-Marie Florence Holmes.' Mycroft kisses his daughter's head just above the ear.

'But the Tilbury's…'

'Joy-Anne Tilbury is her mother. Remember Sherlock, I said her parents never married.' Sherlock's face moves into an 'oh' expression. 'I gave you all the clues you needed.' John shrugs. 'It's not my fault if you weren't able to piece things together.

'We told the investigating police force that their surnames were Tilbury to stop the press from working out that their father was, is, an important member of the government.'

'The most important governmental cockroach.' Anne-Marie murmurs. Mycroft chuckles

'Where's your mother?'

'Coming. I rang her before I rang you.' in perfect timing the door bell rings and the three men and young lady in the 'b' flat of 221 Baker Street. Mrs Hudson potters out of her flat and opens the street door.

'Hello dear, what can I do for you?'

'Are Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes here?' Both of Mrs Hudson's and Joy-Anne's voices float up the stairs.

'I'll go.' John mouths to Mycroft who nods back. John heads to the stairs and his voice floats up the stairs as he descends. 'It's alright Mrs Hudson, Miss Tilbury is expected.'

'Oh, I don't really mind John.'

'Miss Tilbury, Anne-Marie is upstairs with Mycroft.'

'They're talking?'

'They are talking.' All three of the Holmes' hear the squeal of delight from Joy-Anne. 'Very mature of you… cousin.'

'_Cousin_?' Sherlock asks Mycroft.

'John, stop being a tease. I want to see my daughter.' John chuckles and leads Joy-Anne up the stairs towards and into the flat.

'Mummy!' Anne-Marie flings herself into her mother's arms. Mycroft rises and embraces his family. John edges around the three of them and retakes his seat. Joy-Anne untangles herself from her daughter and lover and perches herself on the arm of John's chair.

'You're making him jealous, Bomp.' Joy-Anne laughs

'No I'm not.

'Yes you are.'

'Mummy, Bomp?' Anne-Marie asks efficiently cutting their argument shot.

'You or me Bomp?'

'You.'

'When I was a kid, I couldn't say Joy-Anne very well. We play-fought often and every time I won by pushing her to the ground she would say "bomp" instead of "bump". As we grew older I started teasing her with it.' John taps her leg. 'Off.'

'No.'

'I'll make you.' Joy-Anne hops off and tugs John up. At first he refuses then he tackles his cousin. The two of them play-fight for a couple of minutes before Joy-Anne manages to take control of the fight by gripping John's scar. John reacts by dipping his shoulder and throwing her over his shoulder. He keeps his grip on her but makes sure she is immobilised. 'Yield?'

'Yield.' John lets her up. 'That's not fair.' John smirks as Joy-Anne straightens her clothes.

'And?' John

'I always won.'

'Seriously, Bomp? You are an adult.'

'I always won, you can't deny it.'

'I'm not. But I won today.'

'What changed?'

'Soldier.' John points at him. 'Lawyer.' He points at her. He slumps back in his chair and Joy-Anne snuggles up to Mycroft. 'It worked though.'

'That cousin you were worried about a few years ago, that was him?'

'You were worried about me in Afghanistan?'

'Oh get over yourself. I wasn't that worried.'

'Really?' John sneers. 'I bet you were distraught.' John pulls himself out of his chair. 'Still take tea the same way?'

'Yes as does my daughter.' John laughs and heads into the kitchen to make some tea.

'John, did you know about Mycroft being your cousin's consort?'

'Nope. Although she did hint he was an important individual.'

'Did I? When?

'When you found out I was to be posted in Kandahar. And I quote "if you have to go I can see that you go to a quieter zone."'

'I didn't say that.'

'Yes you did.'

'Are you two going to be hitched then?'

'Sherlock.' Both John and Mycroft chastise him simultaneously. Anne-Marie giggles.

'Well, are you?' john leans on the partition between the living room and kitchen.

'I think they need to talk young cousin of mine.'

'Paternal or maternal?' Mycroft murmurs to his love.

'His pa, my ma.' She murmurs back. John smiles at his cousin and disappears back into the kitchen.

'Christ.' Joy-Anne bolts off the sofa and into the kitchen. Anne-Marie on her heels right behind. 'Did you have to dig into my shoulder Bomp?'

'Sorry, John.' Anne-Marie takes the tray from the counter as her mother guides the doctor into a chair. 'Sit. Apparently I've got mum's healing hands.' John manages to retrieve his and Joy-Anne tea sups from the tray.

'Anne-Marie, yours is closest. Sherlock's is the blue.' She nods and takes the tea to the brothers.


	6. CHAPTER 5

**Chapter** **Five**

John and Joy-Anne sit in a café not far from the Baker Street flat. They each nurse a cup of coffee and to begin with sit in a comfortable silence watching people walk past the café. 'How's Harry?'

'Three months sober and counting.'

'I would have helped but-'

'But the two of you never really got on.'

'Even if we were closer in age.'

'Have you and Mycroft talked?' Joy-Anne grimaces.

'I wouldn't say talk not really.' John raises his eyebrows. 'Yup.'

'And Anne-Marie?'

'Went to her own home.' She pauses. 'How did you get through to her?'

'Mycroft showed me a very private album. I've been to his flat several times and have never seen it before. It could have been bought minutes before.' John takes a mouthful from his coffee. 'It was open at a page with a photo of you and Anne-Marie and one of her on her own. I neglected to say I recognised you. He told me to turn the page and showed me that photo of all three of them celebrating your 45th. Finally he showed me Anne-Marie's first ever photo, only hours old.' The cousins smile at each other. 'The date was written underneath. At the station I showed her the photo of her and the others, basically proving I knew exactly whom she was, then told her that I had left him in tears before saying happy birthday and debating about how much you can actually know about people.'

'Stephen might have been his only son. But Anne-Marie was always his favourite.'

'I can see why.'

'Why did you go over to the flat? We did talk about that but couldn't work it out.'

'His assistant, Anthea, rang me. He didn't turn up at work at his usual time or ring in. She was worried. She couldn't get though to either phone. She rang me, or rather Sherlock, but he was in an exhausted sleep. And I went over to see if he was all right. If he didn't answer the intercom system Anthea had given me a key and the codes so I would have been able to gain entry.' John shrugs. 'Sherlock would have just taunted him. Especially as Mycroft was extremely emotional.' Joy-Anne looks down at her coffee.

'Did he say when they were killed?'

'Stephen and Amy? No, I don't know the specifics.'

'They were killed on her birthday.

'Jesus. No wonder she hated him.'

'I think you telling her he was in that state, let her know that he really does love her and regrets he didn't act sooner.'

'Mycroft must have really hated himself. I mean having two strained relationships. Anne-Marie and Sherlock. Brother and daughter. If Anne-Marie and Mycroft can heal theirs then there is hope for Mycroft and Sherlock as well.' John's phone pings, he glances at it and grimaces. 'The clinic, it's not important.'

'Not important?'

'I know for a fact that there isn't much on the books for today. They don't need me.' John's phone goes off again. 'Mycroft.' Joy-Anne's phone also beeps.

'Mycroft.'

'I think we're being summoned.'

'I think so too. Let's go.'


	7. EPILOGUE

**Epilogue**

Mycroft and Joy-Anne are alone dancing in the middle of the dance floor. All around the edge of the floor are tables filled with people watching the two of them. Joy-Anne wraps her arms around her husband's neck and Mycroft presses his new wife's body next to hers. On the twenty-ninth anniversary of them getting together they are finally married. Mycroft looks over his wife's shoulder at his younger brother sitting at a table with John, Anne-Marie and Joy-Anne youngest sibling who happened to be the person who gave his beloved to him. He smiles as Sherlock scowls with boredom. 'I think Sherlock is bored.' He whispers to Joy-Anne.

'I'm almost positive he is. I know for a fact that Anne-Marie and John conspired to confiscate his mobile.' She whispers back. Mycroft starts chuckling and Joy-Anne joins in. They swing around and Joy-Anne makes eye contact with her daughter and nods.

'Sherlock, care to dance?' The newlyweds hear from their table.

'No.'

'Fine, no phone for you. John?'

'Of course cousin.' Joy-Anne watches John and Anne-Marie join them on the dance floor. Other couples from other tables also walk onto the dance floor and the atmosphere becomes less focused on the government official and his wife.

Three hours later Mycroft bangs a spoon gently against a glass. Silence falls over the hall. 'Ladies and Gentleman, I'm sorry for interrupting this lovely atmosphere, but I can't finish today without saying a few words.' He pauses glancing down before continuing. 'Unfortunately, two people who cannot be here today but are forever in the hearts of my lovely wife and myself. We both miss the pair of them and regret their passing several years ago. I am of course talking about our late son and daughter Stephen Michael and Amy Sophia Holmes. I am sure that they would be extremely happy for their mother and me as the pair of them constantly asked when we were going to tie the knot. The only thing that would make today better would be the two of them being here to celebrate this with us. I am sure they are extremely happy wherever they are and hope that they are watching us with maybe a little hint of pride.' Mycroft raises his glass. 'In memory of Stephen Michael and Amy Sophia.'

'Stephen and Amy.' Everyone choruses. Mycroft retakes his seat and draws Joy-Anne and Anne-Marie onto his lap.

'My two lovely girls.' Anne-Marie huffs.

'Can I get out of this dress yet?' Joy-Anne glances at the clock.

'Only when we've gone.'

'Family pictures then yes.' Joy-Anne counters.

An hour of a photographer taking family portraits of the three of them goes past before Mycroft and Joy-Anne in travelling clothes climb into their limousine to take them on their honeymoon. The entire congregation sees waves them off with Sherlock, John and Anne-Marie at the front. After the car turns a corner Anne-Marie breathes a sigh of relief. 'I can get out of this dress.' She opens her bag and tosses Sherlock his phone. 'Lestrade wants us for a case. Let me go and change.' Sherlock grabs his phone eagerly and scrolls through the missed calls and text messages as John and Anne-Marie head inside to change into street wear. The rest of the party return to enjoy the final few hours of the band and party.

_A/N_

_For those who want to find out what Anne-Marie and Mycroft spoke about after she left Scotland Yard just tell me in a review or private message. Five or more I **will** write it._


End file.
